


Something Lost, Something Gained

by Catw00man



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Community: bdsm_fandom, F/M, Post-Canon, challenge: bdsm_bigbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-23
Updated: 2011-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catw00man/pseuds/Catw00man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Havoc finally makes his return to Central seven years after leaving the military. Unfortunately, the reason for his trip is General Mustang's funeral. Since leaving the military and regaining the use of his legs, he's felt aimless and lost. Can he find his way again with the help of an old friend? Or will it be nothing more then a drunken fling?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably one of the more challenging fics that I've done, not only for the pair but for the whole writing something this long on my own and FINISHING it! It's my first time writing these two like this and I think I've fallen in love. I hope you enjoy as much as I have.
> 
> I was honored to work with 2 amazing artists for this fic, [**ruins_of_sodom**](http://ruins-of-sodom.livejournal.com) aka The Winter Cynic who's amazing art can be found [here](http://ruins-of-sodom.livejournal.com/275518.html) and [**night_shifts**](http://night-shifts.livejournal.com/) who beautiful work can be found [here](http://night-shifts.livejournal.com/33084.html). Thank you both so much!!!
> 
> I need to say a huge thanks to my amazing beta [](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zippit/profile)[**Zippit**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zippit) without who's help and encouragement this never would've been finished!!!
> 
> Written for the 2011 round of [bdsm_fandom](http://bdsm_fandom.livejournal.com) Big Bang Challenge.  
> 

(NOTE: [**night_shifts**](http://night-shifts.livejournal.com/) made a gorgeous NSFW cover art that can be found [HERE](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/elysianfields/15078618/8574/8574_600.jpg) You can leave her comments at [THIS](http://night-shifts.livejournal.com/33084.html) post. Thank you!)

  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/elysianfields/15078618/8210/8210_600.jpg)   
  


  


  
(NOTE: Click to see the full size image. To leave The Winter Cynic comments on this beautiful art please go [**here**](http://ruins-of-sodom.livejournal.com/275518.html?format=light) Thank you!)   


~~~~~~~~~~

Jean always knew he’d be coming back to Central one day, but he never dreamed it would be like this. The guns fire, in quick succession, and the knot in his throat grows tighter. His eyes burn with unshed tears and his hands crush the hat he’s holding. He’d kept his military dress uniform only because he couldn’t bear not to and when the call came he knew he couldn’t wear anything else. He may be retired from the military, but it doesn’t mean he’s not still one of the Colonel, no, the General’s men.

He swallows around the huge knot in his throat and forces himself to look around, anywhere but at the hole in the ground. The dirt thumps on the heavy wooden box, one shovelful at a time, and he scans the crowd for familiar faces. He barely arrived on time and he’d give anything to not bear the weight of his grief alone. His eyes hunger for the familiar but instead it’s a sea of nameless faces surrounding him. A General’s funeral draws a large audience, especially for one next in line to be Fuhrer.

Music plays, the echoing, lonely sound of a brass horn and his chest grows tighter. He should have been here. He should have found a way to come back once he was able to stand on his feet again, but _he_ didn’t want him to. He said Jean was more valuable as an outside resource, but how valuable is he now? He closes his eyes as the haunting melody plays on and ignores the tear sliding down his cheek. He told him he’d be waiting for him at the top, to catch up, but now there’s no one to catch up to. That crazy, idealistic fool is gone and the world is a worse place because of it.

Jean opens his eyes when the music stops and people begin to move around him. It’s over, but he won’t be paying his respects for a while yet. Instead he hangs back, letting the crowd disperse in its own time as he surveys the scene. This isn’t his world anymore despite the uniform he wears. A few people nod his way, calling him “Lieutenant,” and the extra star on his uniform weighs as heavy as the black sash across his chest. Mustang made sure he was promoted after he put in his papers and it’s the first time he’s ever been recognized as a first lieutenant. Even now it somehow feels like the damn fool is still looking out for him.

He moves back under a small tree as officer after officer take their turn by the fresh grave and a pair in civilian dress catch his eye. They’re at the next grave over, one so close another couldn’t fit in between. He knows that grave well too. They all did and somehow it’s fitting for him to be laid to rest here. Jean sees she’s wearing her brunette hair longer these days, it just brushes her shoulders, and it takes him a full minute to realize the young lady with a tear-stained face beside her is Elysia. She has to be ten, twelve, by now? Jean shakes his head and then stares at the ground. How could he let so much time slip away?

He reaches inside his long, formal coat for a battered pack of cigarettes. He hasn’t smoked as much the last few years but since he decided to make the trip to Central he hasn’t be able to help himself. Jean brings one to his lips and lights it with the silver lighter that showed up at his doorstep not long after the Promised Day. Mustang never mentioned it, but Jean always knew who sent it. It was probably a replacement for the one he charred underneath the Third Laboratory. All this time, he’s never stopped carrying it. He fists his hand around it and takes a long, slow drag off the cigarette.

The crowd is thinning. He senses it more than sees it because he doesn’t lift his eyes from the deep, green grass. Seeing Elysia’s face streaked with tears was enough. He thought he needed to see someone he knew, but after a glimpse at how much Miss Gracia and Elysia have changed he knows he doesn’t fit here anymore. He hasn’t fit anywhere since that bitch homunculus stole his life away. Jean closes his eyes as he exhales another long stream of smoke. This day isn’t about him. It’s about the one man in the world who made him feel like he was actually more than just a pawn.

The shuffling of feet around him finally fades away and he forces himself to lift his head and open his eyes. The pathway to the headstone is clear and he looks at nothing else as he pinches off the lit end of his cigarette and pockets the butt. This is one place he won’t be desecrating with his lifelong habit. He walks quickly to the granite stone and the knot in his throat returns. His chest is too tight again and the corners of the lighter bite into his hand as he clenches his fists. There was a day he swore his name would be carved in stone before this one and as he kneels down on the freshly turned earth he knows he a complete and utter failure.

He shouldn’t be making a scene. This isn’t even his world anymore. Jean swallows hard and forces back the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. The Chief wouldn’t have approved of tears and he won’t shed anymore. Low, rolling thunder rumbles in the distance and the air grows cooler as clouds move over the sun. Sudden spring showers are expected this time of year. It may be why the majority of mourners have already moved on. He has a mind to stay until the storm hits until he remembers why the sound of approaching rain puts an uneasy feeling in his gut.

He uncurls his hand from around the lighter and stares at it. Mustang used one like this when his gloves were wet and they were fighting Lust. Jean remembers the smirk on his face at how everyone always underestimated his abilities when things turned damp. A hint of a smile touches Jean’s lips as he places the lighter in the center of the wreath on the grave. He presses his hand over it for a moment and whispers soft. “Just in case you need it, Chief. I can’t imagine there are too many smokers where you are now.”

A hand settles on Jean’s shoulder and makes him jump. He thought he was the last one here. Is he taking time away from someone else’s grief with his silly gesture? Jean slowly turns his head to look over his shoulder and sighs in relief at the kind, understanding eyes. It’s been too long, even though they have kept in touch, and a needed warmth spreads through him for the man who was always more like a brother to him. A small smile crosses his face as he quietly says his name. “Breda.”

“I knew you’d come.” Jean stands slowly, brushing the dirt off his knees before turning to face his old friend. “You come in on the last train?”

Jean nods and forces himself not to look back as he follows Breda away from the grave. The sky darkens by the minute and before long the rain will be falling. It won’t last long, but it’ll be more than enough to soak them to the bone. Breda shouldn’t have waited for him. Jean glances at him, taking in the minute changes time has made since he’s last seen him, and he’s glad Breda decided to wait. He turns toward a car parked on the side street at the edge of the cemetery and it takes a moment for Jean to realize it must be his. “A major’s salary must be a real step up from second lieutenant, huh?”

Breda chuckles as he moves around the car to take the driver’s seat. “You could say that.” He doesn’t elaborate anymore and Jean doesn’t bother asking as the first fat drops of rain fall and splatter against the windshield. He slides in the passenger side and sighs as he sinks down in the seat. Breda rests his hands on the wheel, but makes no move to start the engine and he’s glad for the moment to just sit.

The soft thump-thump of rain drops quickly turn to a steady staccato and there’s a comfort in the regularity of Central’s weather. It’s the first time he’s been back and he’s amazed something so simple can send him back in time. The Colonel hated this time of year with the predictable short showers that were more than a little inconvenience. He was never helpless, but it was an annoyance Mustang never could hide. Now the memory is a comfort as well as a painful reminder. It’s a reminder of a time when he felt like he had a place to belong and he clings to it as long as he can.

“Have you seen anyone else yet?”

Breda’s words pull him from his quiet stupor. Jean shakes his head then replies softly. “Just Miss Gracia, though I didn’t talk to her.” He shakes his head again as he remembers the girl who looked more like a young woman standing next to her. “Was that really Elysia with her? I hardly recognized her.”

“It was. She’s looking more like her mother every day. Can you believe she’s ten years old now?” Jean turns his head to give Breda curious look at the obvious familiarity. Sure they all knew Miss Gracia as Hughes’ widow, but Breda talks like he really knows her. How much has he missed? Breda must read the confusion on his face because he quickly adds, “Mustang helped organize a birthday party for her last month. Attendance was mandatory.” The smile on his lips fades and a sadness creeps back into his eyes. “This is going to be hard on both of them.”

Breda doesn’t say anymore, but he doesn’t have to. His face says everything. Apparently since making General, Mustang found time for more in his life than just his quest for the Fuhrer’s seat. How much more has he missed? He feels Breda’s eyes on him and he knows he should say something so he mumbles, “I can imagine,” under his breath. But he can’t. He has no idea why Mustang’s death should affect Hughes’ widow and her daughter, not to the extent Breda’s making it sound like. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back after all.

“She’s holding a gathering. Pretty much everyone will be there.” Breda fishes his keys out of his pocket but doesn’t start the car. The rain is slowing, just like Jean expected, and he stares straight ahead, watching the rivulets running down the window narrow and pinch off until it’s only single drops sliding down the glass. “I know a lot of them would like to see you.”

He should go. Breda obviously wants him to…but the thought of being in a room full of people he should know, but doesn’t anymore is suffocating. Life’s moved on here, without him, and he can’t blame anyone for that but himself. He could’ve come back. He could’ve replied to Breda’s letters more than a couple times a year. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to face the fact that things weren’t the same, that he couldn’t return and fit right back in. He would be an outsider now, on his own. Unless….

“You said everyone.” Jean pulls his eyes away from the smattering of rain drops on the windshield and looks at Breda again. His face is earnest, concerned, and Jean realizes he’s only trying to help but it’s making him feel even more of an outsider. “Will the little boss--do you think Fullmetal will be there?” He doesn’t know why it matters, except he’d be the only person who’s probably as much of an outsider as himself. Ed never did mesh completely with the rest of them and Jean always assumed it was a little deliberate, that he didn’t want to be lumped in with the rest of them. If he’s here too then maybe—

“Ed hasn’t looked back since he left the military, Jean.”

Jean stares at Breda blankly and it takes a few moments for the full meaning of his words to sink in. Jean knew he’d retired from the military, but to miss Mustang’s _funeral?_ Suddenly the fights and all the arguments and power plays with the Colonel and the Elric brothers flash through his mind. Back then there’s no way Ed wouldn’t have come. He’d probably have been cursing the “bastard” the whole time for dying. But if he’s not even here…Central really is nothing like he remembers.

“I believe Alphonse and Mei will be there. I heard they recently had a little girl. You should come, it would be almost like old times….”

But nothing could be further from the truth. For an instant, he wonders how a giant suit of armor could have a child, but then he remembers Ed’s brother got his body back. Didn’t he even hear something about Ed losing the ability to do alchemy? No, he’s not ready for this. He should see if he can change his ticket for the end of the week to one for tonight or tomorrow. This isn’t his place anymore. He should go back East. His gut twists at the thought because the whole way here he’d felt like he was coming home, but now it seems home disappeared a long, long time ago.

“I think I’m going to pass.” The rain has about stopped and Jean reaches over to open the car door. “It was a long trip and I think I’m going to go back and get some rest, long day and all.” He pushes the door open and gets halfway out of the car before Breda calls out to him.

“Jean.” He looks back over his shoulder to find Breda giving him a hard look. He can read the disappointment on his face, but he sees understanding there as well. No one’s ever known him better and he’s thankful he doesn’t have to explain because he doesn’t think he can. Breda holds his gaze and then speaks in an even tone, one that invites no argument. It’s almost as if he’s giving him an order and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard him speak quite this way. Just one more change caused by time and rank most likely. “Stop by before you leave.”

Jean lowers his eyes for a moment because he realizes Breda’s seen right through him. He knew he would try to slip out unnoticed and now, on the weight of one request, he knows he can’t. He nods, defeated without even saying one word in protest. He will come by and see him again, but not now. He’ll meet up with him and maybe some of the others when it’s not so raw and fresh. “Alright.”

Breda nods at his acceptance and for a moment Jean thinks he might offer him a ride, but thankfully Breda’s able to tell he needs a little time on his own. He pulls back from the car and closes the door. There’s finality to the sound, and as the engine starts up he steps back and watches Breda drive away. Maybe he will go back to the hotel and get some rest. Right now he feels as exhausted as he ever has. Maybe things will make more sense tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/elysianfields/15078618/8867/8867_600.jpg)   
  


  


  
(NOTE: Click to see the full size image. To leave The Winter Cynic comments on this beautiful art please go [**here**](http://ruins-of-sodom.livejournal.com/275518.html?format=light) Thank you!)   


~~~~~~~~~~

He meant to go back to the hotel. He really did. But once Jean remembered the hotel was only a short walk from the bar they used to frequent, his feet seemed to have a mind of their own. He shifts on his barstool and slides his hand over the old wooden surface of the bar. He remembers it being much more polished than it is now. He traces his fingers over a faded ring in the wood then reaches for his beer. He talks a long drink then sets the bottle perfectly over the ring. It’s only a few beers. That’s all. He used to come here with Breda and Falman after work all the time. It’s nothing to worry about.

_But back then you weren’t drinking alone, Jean._

Jean runs his hand over his face and promises himself this is the last one. It has to be. He reaches inside his jacket for his cigarettes and lights one up using the bar’s complimentary matches. He blows out a stream of smoke slowly and watches it drift off into the hazy atmosphere of the bar. This was the only real vice he had when he used to be stationed here, and it was probably because no one cared to stop him. Sure he caught the occasional disapproving glance, but there were no official regulations against smoking so he never bothered to quit. Drinking, however, was monitored.

No one cared if you had a few drinks after work. Actually, Mustang himself used to take them out a few times a month before things went insane. But the next morning you better be to work on time with your senses intact. Jean never had a problem with that, until he didn’t have any place to be when the sun rose. He rubs his hand over his eyes and sighs. There’s nothing like your mother finding you too drunk to climb back into your wheelchair to shame you onto the wagon. That’s exactly why this needs to be the last beer.

“Another one, Lieutenant?”

Jean shakes his head and reaches to down the rest of his bottle when what the bartender said hits him. _Lieutenant._ It’s because he’s still wearing his dress uniform, but it’s still nice to hear even if it is a lie. He drops his cigarette butt in the empty bottle then pulls out some cash for the bartender. He considers hanging around a little bit longer, but there’s no point and he shouldn’t tempt fate. He needs to head back to the hotel and see when he can catch the next train home. He’ll make sure to stop in and see Breda tomorrow but after that—

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry! Let me get that. I’m so sorry….”

He’d turned around to hop off his barstool and accidentally collided with a young waitress carrying drinks. She’s fussing over him and she shouldn’t be. It’s not like he was paying attention. “It’s ok, I’m alright, really.” He catches her hand trying to pat his uniform dry with a towel and gives her a warm smile. He didn’t miss the disapproving look the bartender was giving her. Maybe if he smoothes things over she won’t lose her job. “It was my fault anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

The young woman shoots him a look of gratitude and quickly rushes off to replace her spilled drinks. Jean turns away from the bar then looks down to survey the damage. His shoulders drop in defeat at the dark stain on the right side of his uniform. He’ll need to get this cleaned in the city if he doesn’t want it to stain permanently, not that it matters. There’s no telling when he’ll have another occasion to wear it. His eyes run over the immaculate uniform, but for the stain, and he knows he can’t leave it this way. He’ll head to the bathroom to see if he can get some of it out. If he can maybe he can still leave tomorrow.

Jean sighs and heads for the back of the bar. It seems like Falman once said there was something you could use to keep things from staining. That guy really did know a little about everything. Jean frowns, he should’ve paid more attention while he had the chance. He spots the bathrooms along the back wall but before he can reach them he’s forced to a dead stop. He blinks in surprise at the blond shock of hair, perfectly pinned so the tips stick straight up. His eyes run over the person sitting in the corner booth and he shakes his head. It can’t be. She should be at the gathering with everyone else.

But she isn’t.

She hasn’t changed a bit, at least, that’s the way it seems to him. She’s wearing her dress uniform, same as him, and he realizes she must have come straight from the funeral like he did. But why? Why wouldn’t she go with everyone else? He notices the extra stripes on her uniform and he tries to remember, did Breda mention she got another promotion? When was the last time he mentioned her anyway? He takes a step closer when someone excuses themselves around him. He’s staring, but he can’t draw his eyes away.

Her complete attention’s focused on the glass of beer in front of her and Jean smiles. She always was the type of woman who never minded having beers with the guys. He’s always liked that about her. It’s why it makes no sense she’s here all alone. He walks over to the table without another thought and stops in front of it. She doesn’t look at him so he clears his throat.

“Mind if I join you, Lieutenant Colonel?” Hawkeye raises her head and for a moment she looks like she’s seen a ghost. It’s only then he realizes how he must look in uniform, walking up to her like this. He smiles and motions to his attire. “I was at the….”

Recognition spreads over her face and he relaxes when she smiles. She scoots over a little bit to give him room in the small circular booth. “There’s no need for you to stand on ceremony with me now, Jean. Of course you can.”

He blinks, taken off guard at the informality, but then he remembers. He’s a civilian now despite his dress. He slides in next to her and can’t help but wish she’d called him Havoc instead. It’s a stupid thing, but she never did call him Jean very often. For her to do it now feels strange. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“No, it’s fine.” She smiles again and Jean relaxes a little bit more. “I should’ve realized you’d come.” Her eyes take on a distant look and he doesn’t need to ask why. She and Mustang were always close. He can only imagine how difficult this has to be. She spent years watching his back when they still worked together. It must be hard considering she wasn’t there when he died. Jean still feels guilty and he hasn’t been around for a long time.

“I had to.” It’s a stock answer but it doesn’t make it any less true. As soon as Breda called, he knew there wasn’t a choice. But it still doesn’t explain why she’s here and not with everyone else. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I ran in to you but…I would’ve thought you’d be at the gathering Miss Gracia was having.”

Hawkeye’s face immediately goes hard and Jean’s eyes widen. It’s not the reaction he expected. She reaches for her glass and tightly fists her hand around it. “She has plenty of men to look after her now. I’m sure she’ll be fine without me there.”

Jean’s eyes widen even more at the venom in her voice because it’s so out of character. But does he even know her anymore? She swallows down the last of her beer and Jean signals the first waitress he sees which happens to be the one he ran into earlier. He has a feeling Hawkeye’s ready to leave and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be alone yet.

“Can I help you, sir?” The waitress gives him a brilliant smile and he rubs the back of his neck. It’s been awhile since he’s had the attention of a beautiful woman even if she is the waitress.

“Yeah, two more beers and….” He spares a glance to see Hawkeye still isn’t looking at him and it’s enough to make up his mind. “Two shots of East Mount Whiskey.” Hawkeye’s head snaps around as the waitress goes off to fill their order and it’s everything he can do not to flinch under the weight of her gaze. She’s pissed, and it obviously has something to do with Miss Gracia. He’s not getting the whole picture, but he’s starting to get an idea. Either way he has the feeling neither one of them should be on their own tonight.

“I don’t know why you ordered that. I never liked the stuff,” Hawkeye says as she looks away.

“Neither did I.” She turns her head back to give him a curious look and he shrugs. The Colonel always ordered a round of the horrible whiskey whenever he was in a good mood and insisted everyone take part. It may be a stupid idea, but he can’t help himself. It just feels right. He meets her eyes with his own and attempts to make her understand. “Humor me. If you want to go afterward I won’t stop you, but I feel like we should at least have one drink in his honor. For old time’s sake?”

Her lips turn up in a ghost of a smile and Jean relaxes when she nods once. “I think he’d like that.” There’s still a faraway look in her eyes but she does smirk slightly when she adds, “He always did love forcing the vile stuff on everyone.”

Jean leans back in the booth and nods. How could he ever forget? No one ever knew why the Chief always wanted that particular hard, mash whiskey. He always wondered if it had something to do with the region it was from. It originated near Ishval, or so he’d heard. He would’ve chalked it up to odd tastes but for the one time he saw Mustang taking a shot when he thought no one was looking. The face he made left no room for doubt he didn’t like it much either. Jean may never know the real reason, but he’ll never drink it without thinking of him.

The waitress arrives with their drinks and Jean looks over at Hawkeye when the young woman places a shot glass in front of each of them. Jean tilts his head in invitation and Hawkeye lets out a deep sigh before reaching for her shot. She acts like the whole thing is a massive ordeal, but he doesn’t miss the hint of a smile on her lips. It must bring back memories for her too. He lifts up his shot glass and tips it slightly toward her. “To the General.”

“To the General.” Riza repeats softly before she clinks her glass against his. They both swallow down the bitingly strong liquor and Jean grimaces when it burns a trail down his throat. But then he remembers something and can’t keep the smile from his face.

“Hey, do you remember the first time Kain tried this stuff?” Hawkeye’s face is impassive, for a moment. But then she grins and he gets the impression she’s trying to stifle laughter. He doesn’t even bother trying as he remembers how huge Kain’s eyes looked behind his glasses as he tried to stomach the potent beverage.

“How could I forget? He nearly threw up on Falman.” Jean laughs harder and this time she joins him, the haunted look dissipating from her eyes.

“That’s right, that’s right! He was absolutely going to hurl until he saw the horrified look on Falman’s face!” Jean reaches for his beer and takes a few swallows to rinse the taste of whiskey from his mouth. “I almost forgot about that.”

“It’s too bad Hayate wasn’t so lucky.”

Jean chokes on his beer and nearly spits it across the table which causes Hawkeye to actually giggle. She covers her mouth but he can see the amusement in her eyes as he struggles not to pass out from coughing. She bites her lip, obviously attempting to quell her laughter, but Jean can tell she’s on the edge of losing it again. “Are you, are you alright?”

“Warn me before you do that!” He tries to sound upset but they both know he isn’t and it causes them both to dissolve into laughter again. Finally he catches his breath and shakes his head. “It was Breda, wasn’t it? He was trying to hide his shot under the table, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” She answers between giggles. She manages to compose herself again and reaches for her beer. “He didn’t want to get caught so when Hayate came over and started drinking it, he actually let him. Which I have a hard time believing considering how he normally reacted around him.”

Jean snorts and shakes his head. “It was probably one of those worst of two evils things.” He chuckles and grins more, “Didn’t Hayate throw up on Mustang’s shoes?”

“Yeeeeees.” She’s still grinning and looking so much happier than when he first sat down he motions to the waitress for another round. “Would you believe he tried to get me to clean them?”

His eyes widen and he grins himself at the devious look in her eyes. He leans forward and lowers his voice. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Of course not.” She laughs and takes another drink of her beer. “I told him it was his own fault for offering up the vile stuff to drink in the first place.” She shrugs, still smirking. “Though I don’t know if Breda got off so lucky.”

“I seriously doubt it, though he never talked about it.” The waitress arrives with their next round and Jean swallows down the rest of his beer. He’s actually having a good time and he doesn’t want it to end. He reaches for his next shot and grins when Hawkeye does the same. “To Black Hayate who was never afraid to let the Colonel know what he thought.”

Hawkeye laughs and clinks her glass with his again before forcing down the shot. She coughs once then smiles broadly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard him referred to as ‘the Colonel.’” Jean ducks his head slightly as he reaches for his beer because he hadn’t realized he’d slipped up again. She lightly brushes his hand with her own and he looks up in surprise to find her smiling at him. “It’s nice. Things were different back then.” Her smile grows warmer and he tightens his hand around his glass. “I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you, Jean.”

He blinks because he didn’t expect to hear her say anything quite like that. Sure they were colleagues, but for her to say straight out that she missed him? Does she mean it? He returns her smile with one of his own and nods. “I missed you too, Hawkeye.”

“Riza.” She squeezes his hand then pulls back to reach for her own beer. “Call me, Riza.” She pauses with her glass at her lips then adds before taking a drink. “Too few people do.”

Jean nods certain he’s not catching her full meaning, but he’ll do as she asks. Before her informality made him feel like he didn’t belong here, but now it’s the opposite. He hasn’t felt so comfortable with someone in years and he’s happy to keep this going. “Alright. Riza it is.” The warm, whiskey glow is already building inside him and when he sees the waitress again he doesn’t hesitate to wave her over. But before he can ask for more Riza speaks up.

“Go ahead and bring another round.” She grins at him then adds, “Leave the bottle this time.” Jean shoots her a look of surprise before a devious grin of his own spreads across his face. If she thinks she’s going to outdo him, she has another thing coming. This stuff may be like drinking turpentine, but he can still out do her.

“The whole bottle, eh?” He swirls the beer in his glass and for the first time in a long while he’s honestly having fun. He doesn’t remember ever having a conversation like this with her before, not that it’s a surprise. She was technically his superior. “You sure you can handle that, _Riza?_ ”

“I can handle anything you can throw at me, Jean.”

He laughs, but from the look in her eyes he can’t say he doubts her. She looks as determined as he’s ever seen her so when the waitress returns with the bottle he doesn’t even look up. He just pours two more shots. He sets the bottle down and reaches for his glass, but before he can even thinking about making another toast she beats him to it.

“To old colleagues and new friends.” His eyes widen slightly at her words. He didn’t expect a differentiation, but he can’t say he doesn’t like the sound of it.

“To new friends.” Jean clinks his shot glass with hers and downs it in one gulp. The deep, mahogany liquid burns a trail down his throat and everything gets a little more hazy. He smiles easily at her and as she reaches for the bottle the rest of the bar fades away.

“So when did you start wearing the goatee?” He chuckles and absentmindedly scratches at his chin. He’d thought she’d seen it before but at this point he’s not certain of anything.

“What’s wrong, don’tcha like it? I thought it made me look more ‘manly.’” He laughs at the soft “hmph” sound she makes and takes another drink from his beer. When he sets the glass down it’s seems like she’s a lot closer than she was before but he can’t be sure as the potent whiskey slows down his mind. He’s intimately aware of her hand on his leg and he decides she must not hate his civilian look too much after all.

The shots keep coming until Jean loses count. Her amber eyes locking with his are much more interesting than the dwindling whiskey in the bottle. He shouldn’t be drinking this much, even if it is with a “friend,” but when her lips meet his in a kiss he finds he doesn’t care about what he should or shouldn’t be doing anymore.

Her lips are soft and firm and more than a little insistent, as if he’d try to resist. He tastes the bitter alcohol mixed with a warm sweetness he can’t begin to define. He catches the faint scent of vanilla and something else, but when her tongue slides against his he no longer cares about figuring out what it might be. Riza’s practically in his lap and that’s all he needs to know.

“We should go.” Her voice is low and husky against his ear and it makes his heart pound with anticipation. His body’s a live wire, begging to be touched, and when her nails trail over his abs through his shirt he barely stifles a groan. Nodding is the best he can do and the predatory grin that spreads across her lips leaves him wondering if he’ll even be able to walk when he stands up. “My place. It’s not far.”

Jean doesn’t consider arguing with her. His hotel’s around the corner but she’s obviously not interested in discussing the matter. He’s dimly aware he should be paying when she tosses several large bills on the table and snatches the nearly empty bottle. But before he can say anything Riza grabs his hand and drags him out of the bar.

She jerks him so hard he nearly falls but somehow he keeps his feet under him as they stumble down the sidewalk. Riza’s hand is firmly laced with his and he does his best to keep up. They round a corner illuminated only by street lamps and he stumbles again, tripping over a crack in the pavement and he’s certain he’s going to bite it. But instead of falling face first into the sidewalk, his breath’s knocked out of him when his back hits the brick wall of a building, hard.

Her lips are on his instantly and he forgets about the bar, why he’s in Central, and nearly falling on his face. He slides his arms around her and kisses her back with the same raw hunger, but before he can get much of a hold on her she slips out of his arms and tugs him down the street again. He keeps his feet under him this time and before he can process where they are she’s dragging him up a flight of stairs and into an apartment he’s never seen.

The door slams hard behind him and his coat hits the floor before he even realizes she’s undressing him. He steals kisses between more articles of clothing being pulled or torn off and he doesn’t care when he hears something rip. All he’s concerned with are her lips, her soft skin, and her lightly calloused hands running over his bare chest. She pulls him forward into her bedroom and the next thing he knows he’s staring up at the ceiling as she crawls on top of him. Jean reaches for her, losing himself to her kiss and her warmth without another thought as drunken pleasure overwhelms his senses.


	3. Chapter 3

(NOTE: [**night_shifts**](http://night-<br%20/>shifts.livejournal.com/) made a beautiful NSFW art for this chapter that can be found [HERE](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/elysianfields/15078618/9023/9023_600.jpg) You can leave her comments at [THIS](http://night-shifts.livejournal.com/33084.html) post. Thank you!)

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The first thing Jean’s aware of when he drifts toward consciousness is he’s not in his bed. It’s a little more firm than he’s used to but comfortable nonetheless. The next thing he’s aware of is the warmth next to him and the fact he’s obviously not alone. Is he in his hotel? Did someone come back with him last night? He stretches out on soft sheets and cracks his eyes open, hazarding a look. Does he really want to know? His head aches and from the rancid taste in his mouth and the scratchiness in his throat he’s sure he had way too much to drink. He swallows hard when he sees long, golden hair spread out on the pillow next to him. Why does that seem so familiar? Jean opens his eyes a bit more and lifts his head slightly then snaps his eyes shut again and presses his face back down to the pillow.

_Hawkeye?!_

A bolt of fear and trepidation curls through him making it harder to breathe. Is he really in bed with _Hawkeye?_ Is this _her_ bed? He pulls the covers around him as hazy memories from the night before filter through his foggy mind. He remembers the funeral and talking to Breda. He remembers the waitress spilling drinks on his uniform in the bar, and he remembers toasting the General with that horrid whiskey he always used to force them to drink. Shit, did he take advantage of her? She and Mustang were close. Everyone knows that. Did he do something he shouldn’t have? Does he need to worry about getting shot before he makes it to the door?

Jean’s gut churns sickeningly when he can’t remember all the details. They were talking. He can remember that and at some point she had her hand on his leg. He shifts under the covers and considering his dress and the well satisfied feel in his body he’s certain she touched plenty more than his leg. An unbidden grin steals across his lips as he remembers the taste of her kiss and the silkiness of her unbound hair through his fingers. Oh yeah, there was a lot more touching than just a kiss.

He cracks his eyes open then hesitantly lifts his head again. The sunlight streaming through the window makes his head hurt but the glorious sight next to him makes it more than bearable. He props his head on his hand stares wide eyed at the naked beauty beside him. The sheet only covers up to her waist and the delicious glimpse he’s getting of the side of her breast wakes up more than just his mind. She’s lying on her stomach, one arm under her pillow and her lips are parted slightly as she breathes heavy in sleep. A lock of hair rises and falls over her face with her breath and he squirms at his body’s reaction. She’s gorgeous and he wants nothing more than to brush the offending lock of hair out of her face…but would his touch be welcome?

He can’t help himself. He has to reach out. He does and it’s only then he notices his hand is trembling, though if it’s from the hangover or her untouchable beauty he’s not sure. He captures the bit of golden silk between two fingers and pushes it back behind her ear. He sighs softly, relaxing next to her until he realizes he’s being watched by deep, amber eyes. Jean’s breath catches in his throat and time stands still. His heart pounds in his chest and his mouth goes even drier than it already was. Will she shoot him, or throw him out?

Riza’s hand darts out and grabs his wrist before he can react. Is that confusion in her eyes? Does she not remember the night before? Is she sorry he’s here? He didn’t want to take advantage of her. Hell, to be honest, he’s never done this before. He’s never had a drunken one night stand and…is this a one night stand? “Hawkeye, I….”

But he can’t get another word out because she moves faster than he can even think. She pins him to the bed in an instant, straddling his chest and holding him down with both wrists by his head. He blinks up and is completely overwhelmed by the sight of her. Her hair’s a tangled, golden mess falling over her shoulders and ending right above her two, perfectly rounded breasts. His body throbs with want and he hardly notices the hard look on her face. She could shoot him right now if it meant this was the last thing he’d ever see.

“I thought I told you to call me, Riza.”

Jean stares in confusion because her tone of voice is less than inviting. If she’s ticked off at him why is she pinning him down and grinding over his stomach? He aches to reach for her, to push her down over his throbbing cock that’s begging to be touched, but when he tries to pull away or raise his hips she leans forward and pins him more effectively. Is she playing with him? She doesn’t look like she’s playing. If anything she looks pissed but it’s the sexiest version of pissed he’s ever seen in his life. “Riza, I’m sorry, I just—”

“Shut up.” The crack across his face leaves him so stunned he doesn’t realize what she’s doing until she’s tying his second wrist to the headboard. Where the hell did she get leather straps? He tugs at his already bound wrist and tries to keep her from binding the other but it’s already too late. What the hell is going on? He opens his mouth to ask for an explanation but he’s slapped again, though nowhere near as hard as the first time. If anything it’s more to get his attention and she’s got all of that right now as she squirms over him again. “I told you to shut up.”

Jean nods, wide eyed, as she sits up completely and he gets a full view of her luscious body. He knew she was a beautiful woman, but he had no idea just how beautiful until this moment. Her body’s toned from years of being a soldier but it doesn’t take away from her femininity, if anything it makes her even more gorgeous. There’s definition in her arms women rarely have from years of training with heavy rifles that have a kick few men could handle. Her breasts are full and if his hands weren’t bound they would make perfect handfuls.

He wants to reach for her and brush his thumbs over her pert nipples, but he has no doubt he _would_ be shot before that happens. Her waist tapers to a smooth, flat stomach he’d love to trace patterns on with his tongue and her hips have just the right amount of curve to them. He tries to squirm under her again but her perfectly toned thighs prevent him from moving more than an inch. He’s at her mercy and the realization of it makes his heart race and his cock ache even more.

Riza’s hands run over his chest but then his eyes go wide and his mouth opens in surprise when she trails them up her thighs and over her stomach. Jean swallows hard, his eyes locked on her delicate hands as they run knowingly up her body and then cup her heavy breasts. He groans low, which is apparently allowed, when her thumbs do what his were itching to do, sliding over her hardened nipples and pinching them none too lightly. His mouth goes dry when she tugs them between her fingers and grinds her hips down against his chest. The sound of her moan goes straight to his groin and his eyes snap up to see hers are closed in pleasure as she touches herself and rubs against him. The sight is more erotic than anything he’s ever imagined and he can’t help himself from speaking. “Fuck….”

Her eyes snap open and pin him with a hard stare and he immediately goes quiet. He won’t risk losing this show by opening his mouth again. He bites his lip in an effort to stay quiet and that must be enough because her hands start moving over her breasts again. Jean’s breathing hard as he watches her touch and tease herself and when one of her hands slides down her body and between her legs he groans low again. He grits his teeth to keep from begging when she rocks on her fingers and he can’t stop himself from squirming under her. He twists his hands, trying to get them free but the wide leather cuffs give him no freedom. His whimpers turn to whines until both her hands spread over his chest and his eyes widen as she lifts herself up slightly and then sinks down on his hard, waiting cock.

He cries out loudly, throwing his head back as tears spill out of the corners of his eyes. He’s never, _ever_ been left wanting so long and his body is burning like it’s going to combust. She moves over him slowly, crying out her own pleasure and he tries to buck his hips upward, needing so much more. But she pins him down with her thighs as her nails rake down his chest. She’s obviously running the show and he whimpers again, wanting to beg, plead, offer anything but he’s certain if he did she’d stop altogether.

Her muscles clench tightly around him as she speeds up her pace, leaning forward on her hands as she rides him hard. Jean cries out incoherently and he’s so, so damn close. He just needs a little bit more. He pulls hard at his bonds until the leather bites into his wrists but he doesn’t care. The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure searing through him. If anything it’s intensifying it. Fuck, it’s the most intense thing he’s ever felt in his life.

Jean bucks his hips up again, teeth clenched, body a taut wire right on the edge when everything suddenly goes completely still. He blinks open his damp eyes to find her giving him the same hard stare as before. He looks up in confusion, but before he can process anything she lifts off him and slides up his body. He sees her hands grab the top of the headboard just moments before she sits on his face.

The strong scent of her desire overwhelms his senses and everything else. Finally he’s able to _do_ something. He lifts his head and eagerly slides his tongue over her heated, velvety flesh. Her cries are muffled to his ears but they’re music all the same. Right now he’d love to explore her trembling body more fully but his position and her grinding hips will only allow him so much. He tilts his head back slightly and grins when he finds her clit. He sucks over the tiny nub, lashing it rapidly with his tongue until her cries get louder and he sucks hard again. She’s riding his tongue like she was his cock before and he wishes he could see her because he knows how beautiful she must be so close to the edge. He swirls his tongue over her as hard as he can until her entire body suddenly goes stiff.

For an instant he can’t breathe as Riza’s thighs clamp down over his head, but it’s only for a moment. The next second she’s shuddering over him, collapsing against the headboard, and he laps at her sweet juices the best he can. Jean’s entire body is tense in anticipation, fueled by the taste of her and he shifts underneath her, his body begging for her attention. He’s still so hard it hurts and he wants her so damn much, but he’s still doesn’t know if he should say something. He bites his tongue, trying to stay quiet but the ache in his groin is too much and it’s getting hard to breath with her sitting on his chest. “Riza….”

She pushes back from the headboard the instant he speaks and he breathes a sigh of relief, until she slides off him and moves away. He frowns. Where is she going? He jerks at the restraints enough to rattle the headboard as she slips off the side of the bed. “Riza, Hawkeye, where the hell are you going?”

She looks over her shoulder at him with an expression he can’t begin to read. If anything he’s reminded of the stories of men who brag about loving and leaving. He’s never been one of them and he doesn’t know what to make of it. She looks like she doesn’t even care. He pulls at the bonds holding him again and bucks his hips up, willing her to see the state he’s still in. Surely she doesn’t plan on leaving him like this.

“Riza. _Please._ ” He raises his hips again, hoping she’ll get the point but all she does is arch an eyebrow at him. The look on her face is too close to a smirk and he watches disbelieving as she walks to her closet and pulls out a fresh uniform, draping it over her arm. There’s no way she’d leave him like this. Why is she doing this? “Come on. This is insane. What about _me?_ ”

She tilts her head at him and he has the distinct impression he’s supposed to know something. But he doesn’t. He’s about to demand she come back and finish what she started when she nods to a spot on the floor. He cranes his neck to see an obviously used condom and he winces at his obvious carelessness. Drunk or not, he could have at least found a trash bin. “I think you did enough last night.” Her eyes lock with his and he shivers at the hardness in them. “Don’t you?”

He has no words and she doesn’t wait for any. She turns and heads into the bathroom with her clothes. Jean hears the shower turn on and he shifts around on the bed trying to get comfortable. Just because she turned him down doesn’t mean his body got the memo. He’s still aching for her touch and every time he thinks he has himself under control he remembers her straddling him, touching herself and he gets hard all over again. He can’t stop thinking about the way she sounded, the way she looked and the way she felt hot and tight around him. He’s still more than a little overheated when she comes out of the bathroom in full military dress.

His heart sinks. He was hoping maybe after she had a chance to cool off she might have mercy on him and come back to bed. He runs his eyes over her impeccable appearance and as his gaze lingers over her lips a small part of him is still hoping she’s not done with him. She can’t be that upset about last night, right? She did bring him back here. Her gaze sweep over him slowly and he doesn’t remember a time he’s felt so damn exposed. There’s nothing he can do to hide his desire from her roaming eyes and he wonders if this is how women feel when they’re ogled against their will.

There’s a hint of a smile on her lips but it’s the look in her eyes that has him worried. She looks…devilish and he’s afraid of what it could mean. He attempts to turn his body away, to do _something_ to make her react but his arms are spread wide, lashed to each end of the metal headboard and he has no leverage to do much of anything. He’s beginning to think she knew exactly what she was doing when she tied him up.

“Riza…please.” His voice is much softer this time, no longer commanding, but asking for something. Release, freedom, being kicked to the curb, he’d take any of the above over this endless, uncomfortable waiting. She moves closer, one step at a time, and he breathes a sigh of relief. She’s going to let him go. Things got carried away last night and she wasn’t pleased so she wanted to teach him a lesson. He can live with that. He knew better than to drink so much anyway.

She stops at the side of the bed and a tremor of anticipation runs through him as she leans over him. He smells the scent of vanilla he noticed before and realizes it must be her soap or maybe her shampoo. His entire body tenses as she hovers over him until he’s ready to scream from the waiting. But then her lips meet his and a flood of fresh warmth washes over him. Her teeth tug lightly at his bottom lip and he willingly opens to her kiss, drowning in the taste as she sweeps her tongue through his mouth. The deep seated desire residing painfully in his groin returns with a vengeance and he gasps when she pulls back as if her very kiss stole his breath away.

Jean stares up at her, eyes wide with longing, and right now he’d do absolutely anything she asked. He can’t ever remember feeling this way before and it’s comforting as much as it is unsettling. He doesn’t understand what she’s done to him, but when she backs away fear grips him like icy fingers in his chest. His eyes widen as she backs toward the door without a word and suddenly he _knows_ what she means to do.

“No,” he whispers softly, but the decision’s already been made. She’s leaving him here, like this, and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind. “Don’t. Hawkeye, don’t. Please.”

But the sound of the door closing is the only answer he receives. Jean squeezes his eyes shut and wills his body to relax, but all he can see is _her_ , sexy and gorgeous above him. He won’t be relaxing for a very, long time. His body throbs with want of her and he can’t understand what spell she’s cast over him to make him ache for her touch so much.


	4. Chapter 4

  
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The sound of something jolts Jean out of his light doze and he winces at the soreness in his shoulders. He tries to curl and uncurl his fingers but it seems his right hand’s asleep. He not sure what woke him. To be honest he’s surprised he got any sleep at all. If he wasn’t overheated from desire or shame he was struggling to get comfortable with his arms stretched out along the length of the headboard. He lifts his head, craning it to get a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand then drops back onto the pillow. It’s barely after noon. There’s no way she’d—.

The bedroom door opens and his eyes widen when Riza quietly comes into the room. He didn’t expect her so soon. Her eyes are lowered, but he still attempts to twist and turn on the bed, anything to hide his nakedness. But it’s no use. Not to mention it’s not like she hasn’t already seen everything he has to offer anyway. Thankfully his body isn’t reacting in a way to make things worse, yet.

She crosses the room without a word and sits on the edge of the bed, obviously being careful not to touch him as she reaches over him and works the buckle of one of the leather cuffs. He’s had plenty of time to examine his binding while she was gone and there’s no doubt this is what they were intended for, though he’s still not sure what to make of that. Has she done this to someone else? He doesn’t even want to think about it. He tilts his head in an effort to get her to look at him but as his hand comes free she pulls back immediately to unfasten the other one, still without looking at him.

“Riza?” His voice’s a little rough from the alcohol and cigarettes the night before and he clears his throat when she doesn’t acknowledge him. His right arm comes free and he groans as the tension in his shoulders is finally released. She immediately turns to move off the bed and he reaches for her. They still need to talk. There’s no way he’s leaving Central after everything that happened without talking about this. If he offended her, he needs her to know he didn’t mean it. He manages to catch her wrist but his hand is still asleep and he has no grip. She easily slips away. “Riza, wait. Don’t go.”

She pauses, standing beside the bed with her back to him, head slightly turned toward him with her eyes still firmly locked on the floor. She looks tense and remorseful and nothing like the dominating beauty who used him and left him only a few hours ago. It’s a startling transformation and one that has him mixed up inside. He was pissed not long after she left and he wanted to scream and demand an explanation. Not now, seeing her like this, it makes him more uncomfortable than anything else that happened today. “I’m sorry, Jean.”

Her words are whispered and before can even think of a reply she rushes across the room and into the bathroom. He hears the lock turn and he can only stare. Jean sits up and shakes his head at her actions but he has more pressing concerns to worry about right now. He rolls his shoulders and winces as the soreness spreads halfway down his back. He flexes his fingers then climbs off the bed and looks for his trousers. He spots his boxers first and slips them on before hurrying over to the bathroom door and knocking on it.

“Riza, please. Open the door.” He hears nothing but silence, then something that might be a muffled, “Just go away.” He’s not trying to make the situation worse, but she hasn’t given him any other option. He knocks again, a little harder this time. “Look, if you don’t want to talk, fine. But please open the door unless you want me pissing on the floor.” His voice takes an edge to it he doesn’t intend but he doesn’t have a choice. His full bladder already has him shifting from foot to foot and it’s only getting worse as he stands here. “Hawkeye—.”

Jean hears the lock turn first and by the time she opens the door he’s pushing his way past her. He doesn’t even bother to see if she leaves. There’s no time. He closes his eyes when he’s finally able to relieve himself and he swears he feels her watching him, but by the time he looks around the door is closing softly. Shit. He didn’t mean to act like an ass but when you have to go…. Jean shakes his head and sighs as he gets himself readjusted in his boxers then turns for the sink to wash his hands. He turns the water on and it’s only then he looks in the mirror.

He looks like shit.

Jean blinks and stares at his reflection as hot water flows into the sink. His hair sticks up in all directions, more so than usual, and his eyes are more bloodshot than blue. There’s a dark mark at the base of his neck and what he swears look like teeth marks on his shoulder. Faded red scratch marks mar his chest and he’s altogether filthy from a night of drinking and sex. He shakes his head and grabs the soap by the sink. He’d like a shower but he’s not about to push his luck now. He washes his hands up to his elbows then splashes some water on his chest. He lathers up the best he can then cups his hands to wash his face, particularly his goatee. It’s stiff for reasons he doesn’t want to think about right now. Finally, as the mirror begins to steam, he’s feeling a little more like himself.

He turns off the water and grabs the towel on the counter to dry himself off. His eyes are looking less bloodshot and he reaches up to smooth back his hair. Jean runs his fingers through his customary spiky hair over his forehead then nods to his reflection in the mirror. At least he’s looking a little less like he just walked out of a brothel. He glances down and frowns, wishing he’d taken the time to find his trousers. Thankfully he’d bothered to wear plain navy blue boxers and not one of the novelty pairs he’s been given over the years. Women sometimes have the most bizarre tastes, but on laundry day who really cares, right?

Jean shakes his head. He doubts Riza’s going to be very worried about the underwear he’s got on. He’ll be lucky if she’s not outside the door holding his pants and a pistol to shoo him out the door. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. What he’d give for a cigarette right now. He takes a deep breath then turns for the door but stops when his hand rests on the knob.

He’s had a lot of time to think today. He couldn’t do much else and he’s remembered more of what happened last night. He remembers their conversation and comfortable companionship in the bar, the likes of which he hasn’t felt in a long time. He doesn’t want to lose that just because he couldn’t help thinking with his dick. Somehow he needs to get her to talk to him.

He grips the doorknob tighter then slowly turns it. He cracks the door open a few inches and when he doesn’t spot an immediate ambush he pulls the door open all the way. He steps out into the bedroom and sees her sitting at the foot of the bed. Her hands are folded in her lap and she’s staring down at them giving no indication she notices him. But he knows better. Riza’s one of the most observant people he’s ever met which means she’s deliberately ignoring him.

Jean shifts on his feet unsure what to do next. She’s made it pretty clear she wants him to leave but…he can’t leave it this way. He takes a breath then walks over to the end of the bed. As he expects she still doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t care. He sits down beside her and she immediately gets tenser. He rests his hands on his thighs and struggles to find the words he needs to say. “Riza….”

“Just go, Havoc.” Her voice is flat and her gaze remains locked on her hands. Does she really think if she doesn’t look at him he’ll pretend nothing happened? Is that really who she thinks he is?

“I thought it was ‘Jean’ now.” Riza sighs deeply and turns her head to give him an annoyed look. He attempts his most winning smile but she’s obviously not amused. So much for charming his way through this situation. Jean shakes his head and tries again. “I was just trying to say—.”

“Don’t. You don’t need to say anything.” She looks at him again and if anything gets more pissed off and he doesn’t understand why. He wants to try and clear the air and not leave things like this, but somehow he’s making it worse. “Look, I’m sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, if you don’t mind….” She stands and walks over to his rumpled trousers on the floor and throws them at him with a hard, resolute look on her face.

Jean barely catches his pants before they hit them in the head and he quickly leans over to slip them on. Does she think he was angling for an apology? He shakes his head as he stands, pulling up his trousers. “Riza, you don’t have to apologize. I mean, that’s not what I was….” Why is he always so bad with words? He reaches up to rub the back of his neck and he cricks it to the side. He takes a breath and starts again. “I obviously pissed you off last night and I didn’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of you because I wasn—what?”

Riza’s looking at him like he’s crazy and he doesn’t understand it. Did he say something else wrong? He’s trying to explain he’s not the type to jump into bed the way they did and he’s not holding this morning against her. He probably deserved it anyway and besides it really wasn’t so bad.

“Jean, why do you do that?” He blinks in confusion as she crosses the room and cups his face in her hands. She presses a soft kiss to his lips and stunned isn’t a strong enough word for how he feels. Her thumbs brush across his cheekbones and her voice takes a softer tone than before.

“I do need to apologize. I was taking my own issues out on you and you don’t deserve it.” She pulls her hands away then looks down and turns toward the bedroom window. “I felt out of control. Part of it was last night, part of it wasn’t.” Her voice is very soft now and her words laced with guilt. “But none of it was about you. I can’t imagine what you must think of me….”

Jean stares at her back in surprise. Does she really think he’d think less of her? He steps forward and reaches to put his hand on her shoulder but she immediately pulls away. “Riza….”

“Don’t. Don’t, Jean I know what I did and I know it wasn’t right. You weren’t looking to be used and abused like tha—”

“Stop it.” Jean reaches out again and this time he puts his hands on both her arms and turns her around. Her eyes widen at his actions and part of him still wonders when she’ll finally pull out her sidearm and order him out. But she doesn’t. Instead she stares at him with a hard look as if she’s trying to see through him. “Would you please listen to me? Just for a minute and then if you want me to go I’ll go.”

Riza holds his gaze for a long moment then nods slowly. He doesn’t want to do this standing in the middle of the room like this so he leads her back over to sit on the end of the bed again. She resists initially but when he tugs lightly on her hand she gives in and sits beside him. The look she gives him tells him in no uncertain terms he better get to the point and he’s going to, or at least he’s going to try.

“Look, you don’t have to beat yourself up.” She tilts her head at him and he feels like he’s standing in quicksand. “I mean, about this morning, it’s ok. Really.” He reaches out and puts his hand over hers trying to make her understand as his words fail miserably. “I mean….” His voice softens and he hopes she doesn’t think _he’s_ the crazy one now. “I kinda liked it.”

Her eyes narrow and bore into him as the silence stretches out between them. Jean frowns because he can’t begin to decipher her look. Riza jerks her hand away and her scowl deepens. “If you’re just trying to get me back into bed that’s not happening. You should go, Havoc.”

Jean’s mouth opens in surprise and he shakes his head quickly side to side. “No, no, Riza that’s not what I meant!” She pushes off the bed and he can tell she’s not listening. She turns her back on him and he suddenly realizes she opened up and told him why she did what she did and if her actions are any indication she must think he’s mocking her. But he’s _not_. He had hours to think about this and even though he still doesn’t fully understand it, he thinks that she might. He can’t let this go.

“Hawkeye, please.” She stops on her way to the door with her back to him and he takes a breath. This is probably his last chance and for once he doesn’t want to blow it. “You said you felt out of control and that you needed… _something_.” Jean fists his hands on his thighs and looks down. “I won’t lie to you. I wasn’t happy about…being left. But before that….”

He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath as he remembers the feeling of everything being in control again. He didn’t realize it at the time, his dick was speaking much too loudly for him to think straight. But looking back at it now, he remembers feeling like he wasn’t lost for the first time in years. How the heck can he make her understand that?

“Since I left the military, I haven’t done so well. I’ve been missing…something.” He opens his eyes and slowly unclenches his hands. They’re calloused from years of work but they only ever felt useful when he was following Mustang’s orders. Even if it was shoveling rocks, it gave him a purpose. “You’re probably going to think I’m insane, but when you did what you did….” He swallows hard and shakes his head. “When you took control, I didn’t have to worry about anything. And for the first time in a long fucking time I didn’t feel so damn lost and….” He curses softly under his breath. “I don’t know what that makes me.”

He hears her movement and he can’t looks up. He doesn’t know if she’s walking away or toward him until soft fingers caress down the side of his face. He jerks his head up and his breath catches at the sympathy and possible understanding he sees in her eyes. Could she really understand? She brushes his hair back from his forehead and leans down to place a soft kiss to his skin. Her hand slides down his face again and for the second time today he feels vulnerable and exposed, but this time…he doesn’t mind so much. In a way, it’s almost comforting.

“So you think you might like being told what to do?” Riza’s amber eyes seem to grow deeper in color and Jean wets his lips when his mouth goes dry at the sight. He’s not sure how to answer her because he’s not convinced he even has the answer. But he thinks he does so he nods slowly. A slight smile curls at her lips as her thumb slides along his scruffy jaw. “Well, why don’t we see if that’s true?”

Jean doesn’t know what she means, but when her lips meet his that’s something he does understand. He opens his mouth to the warm tongue sliding across his lips and he wants to touch her. His hands ache to caress her in ways he hasn’t been allowed and when she deepens the kiss he can’t hold back. He reaches up with his right hand and slides it lightly along the side of one of her full breasts. Just the bare touch sends tingles of desire through him and his heart sinks when her hand slides over his pulling it away. But then her fingers lace with his as she pulls back from the kiss. He looks up and is that a smile on her face?

“Come on, Jean.” She laughs and tugs at his hand until he’s on his feet then pulls him across the room. He’s beyond confused. He doesn’t think she’s mocking him, but he has no idea what’s going through her head. When he realizes she’s tugging him toward the bathroom he gets even more confused. What is she trying to do? Riza stops at the door to take off her blue, officer’s coat which she tosses over the dresser. It leaves her in the familiar close fitting black under shirt and Jean can’t keep from staring at the way it clings to her breasts. She removes her double gun holster as well then grins at him when she finds him ogling her.

“I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. You couldn’t keep your hands off them last night.” Jean’s face heats because with her words come memories he thought were only his imagination. He stammers and rubs at the back of his neck but before he can manage a word she tugs him into the bathroom. She lets go of his hand to rummage under the sink for something. Then she hops up on the counter to sit beside the sink with what he can only describe as a mischievous grin on her face.

“So, you said you like following orders, is that right?” Jean nods, still unable to take his eyes off her. She’s beautiful when she smiles. It was something he always took note of but never appreciated as much as he does now. She reaches down on the counter and the next thing he knows she’s holding a razor in front of his face. “Then why don’t you start by shaving that stuff off your face.”

He blinks in surprise. What? Jean reaches up to run his hand over his goatee. He’s actually grown rather fond of it. Apparently she doesn’t appreciate it the same way? His first instinct is to turn her down, but then he thinks about why he even has it. He stopped shaving because he could, not so much because he wanted to. But now she _wants_ him to and he finds as he looks in the mirror he’s not as attached to it as he thought he was. He reaches out and takes the razor, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand as he does. “Alright.”

Riza smiles even more than before and a warmth that has nothing to do with sex flows through him. He smiles back and turns to the sink to turn the water on. He waits for it to get hot then splashes some on his face. He sees the shaving cream beside the sink and realizes it must be the other thing she pulled from the cabinet. He reaches for it and with only a moment’s hesitation to look in the mirror once more he sprays some into his hand then spreads it across his face.

Riza’s eyes are on him as he runs the razor under the hot water and he shifts on his feet. There’s something really hot about being watched doing something usually so private. He can’t remember anyone ever watching him shave before. He had the same feeling when he thought she was watching in him here earlier and…he can’t say he doesn’t like it. He leans forward over the sink and looks in the mirror, trying to focus on what he’s doing and not the gorgeous woman whose thigh is pressed against his other arm. The last thing he needs to do now is cut himself and look like a complete idiot.

Jean starts with his upper lip. It’s not much more than fuzz so it’ll be the easiest to do. The shaving cream is thick, probably a more expensive kind than he used to buy, and the blaze glides easily over his skin. It hardly takes any time to rid himself of the slight growth and he rinses the razor under the hot water. The goatee’s going to take a little longer so he makes sure the blade’s good and hot before making his first small stroke. He gets about halfway done when her hand slides over his wrist and he looks to find her eyes darkened and locked right on him.

“Let me see that.”

Jean blinks in confusion because he’s not sure what she’s asking. But then she reaches out to take the razor from his fingers and his eyes widen. Does she want to do this for him? Riza tugs at him with her other hand and nudges him with her leg until he ends up standing between her spread thighs. His heart races as she reaches over to clean the razor under the small stream of water and his breath catches as her other hand touches the side of his face to turn his head where she wants it.

Maybe he’s not very adventurous but he’s never even thought about someone shaving him before. His pulse pounds and his mouth goes dry when she brings the razor up for the first time. Her face is a mask of concentration he recognizes. He’s seen the same look in her eyes when lining up a shot with her rifle. More than once he’s trusted his life to her precision, this shouldn’t be much different.

Except it is.

The blade slides slowly against his jawline and it tugs lightly against the coarse hair of his goatee. He’s afraid she might try to force it, but just like he did she works at it a bit at a time, pausing to rinse the blade repeatedly. He watches her hand as she runs it under the water again and wets his lips as she brings it back to his chin. Her other hand holds him steady and he’s glad for it because otherwise he’s afraid he might be trembling. As it is he’s glad he put on his pants because she’d definitely see the reaction she’s having on him were he still only in his boxers.

Riza slides the blade over his skin again and it’s only when he glances at the mirror that he realizes she’s done. He sucks in a shuddery breath as she dips the blade under the water. The room’s already filled with steam and he should probably let her get off the counter. He shifts back slightly but before he can get very far her legs wrap around and trap him.

He’s close, too damn close to her. He’s trying not to take liberties she’s not ready for him to take but the heat of her thighs around his waist is maddening. He clears his throat as she runs a wet hand over his face to clean off the extra bits of shaving cream then hisses low as some of the water drips onto his bare chest. It’s everything Jean can do to keep his composure as the warm water slides slowly down his chest.

“Riza….” He whispers soft, unsure if he’s supposed to speak. He looks to her in question and the only answer she gives is to smile then lean forward and place wet kisses along his smooth jawline. “Ahhhhh, fuck,” he groans low and tilts his head back as she kisses her way to his throat. Jean reaches out to rest his hands on her waist and she scoots even closer to him, her legs tightening around him more. She has to feel his arousal now and the closeness to her heat is driving him out of his mind.

“Not quite yet,” she tells him with the sexiest chuckle he’s ever heard. He whimpers softly and blinks to look at her as she pulls back slightly. She’s holding the razor again and he tilts his head in question. Riza grins slowly and turns it around backwards in her hand then slides the back side of the blade down his chest. It’s a simple action, but the rough caress combined with the smoldering look in her eyes makes his entire body throb with want.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” He shifts his hips in an effort to get his raging hard-on under control but she makes it even worse by tightening her legs and grinding her hips against him. He gives her a wide eyed look and the devious smirk on her face tells him she did it on purpose. Gorgeous vixen. Jean leans forward to kiss her but she stops him with a hand on his chest. She pushes him back slightly and he moans low when she leans up and kisses along his collarbone. “Fuck, Riza. You’re driving me crazy.”

She laughs that sexy chuckle again and this time it makes him tremble with desire. Her hands run up his chest, thumbs pinching his nipples and he cries out softly. Riza shifts to kiss down the other side of his collarbone to his shoulder and he can’t help himself. He reaches up and does the one thing he’s always wanted to do since the day he met her. He unbinds her hair and moans as it falls around her shoulders in soft, golden waves. Jean slides his fingers through it before she can tell him not to and just like he thought, it’s like fucking silk over his hand.

“Enjoying yourself?” Her words have a little bite to them but the smile on her face is definitely genuine. She leans back on her hands and his eyes run over the tight shirt that does nothing but accent her perfectly round breasts. He nods, not trusting himself to form coherent words and her smile turns into a smirk as she reaches down and pulls her shirt over her head. Jean sucks in a breath and his cock twitches at the glorious sight she makes. He’d like to be able to take it all in but he can’t. All he can do is drool over the black lace bra covering her full, luscious breasts. His hands curl on the counter and he can’t tear his eyes away even when she speaks again. “You have been a good boy, doing everything I asked. Do you still like doing what you’re told?”

“Fuck yes,” he replies breathless with no hesitation. His body’s tense as hell, strain in each and every muscle as he forces himself not to touch her.

“Good. Then why don’t you show me how much you like what you see.” Riza reaches down for both his hands and he shudders with desire when she places one over each breast. His lips part and it’s only then he realizes he’s nearly panting but he doesn’t care, not when she arches back as he squeezes both perfect mounds. Her nipples harden as he brushes his thumbs over them and the sound she makes is sexy as hell. Her legs tighten around him again as he massages her breasts and there’s no way he can hold back anymore. He leans forward and buries his face in heaven.

“Oh, damn, Jean.” Her hands run though his hair, pulling at it lightly but he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about his running his lips, his smooth face and tongue over her soft and silky skin. His hands cup her heavy breasts and press them together as he presses his face between them. He could die right here and now and be happy. He kisses over the top edge of the lace then lowers his head more to suck over her nipple through the thin fabric. She bucks her hips against him, squirming as he rolls her other nipple between his fingers and sucks even harder. He could do this all day long.

Jean palms and squeezes one of her more than a handful breasts and uses his teeth to pull down the lace covering the other. He swirls his tongue over her nipple then sucks it into his mouth as he lashes it with his tongue. Her hands slides between them and he doesn’t realize what she’s doing until she lifts her hips and unhooks her legs from around him. He lets her push her pants down because he doesn’t want to take his hands off her gorgeous chest. He pulls the lace covering her other breast down as well then switches, wanting to make sure both get equal treatment as he locks his mouth over her nipple.

“Fuck. Enough,” she pants and pushes at his shoulders, but he doesn’t want to stop. He places kisses over both soft mounds then looks up at her, licking his lips as he continues to touch her with his hands. Riza smirks and shakes her head. “Good to know I meet your approval, Jean, but how about you show me what else that tongue can do?”

“I’d be happy to.” He knows exactly what she wants when she pushes down on his shoulders and he’ll get there. But first he wants to taste her lips. Jean leans forward and he’s not tentative or hesitant this time. He kisses her hard and full on the mouth and the soft moan she makes is music to his ears. He tangles his tongue with hers as he continues to fondle her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her hard nipples and rolling them between his fingers. He breaks the kiss only when he has to catch his breath and he doesn’t miss the look in her eyes. He grins at her impatient scowl and winks at her. “You realize you didn’t specify.”

She smacks his shoulder, none too lightly, and he chuckles and he takes a step back to kiss and lick his way down her body. He pauses to swirl his tongue over each nipple then quickly makes his way down to her pretty, matching, black lace panties. Her legs are spread wide and he runs his hands over her thighs as he dips his head and kisses over the silky fabric. He groans when he finds it’s already damp and he inhales her sweet musky aroma. This time around he’s going to take advantage of the situation and take his time.

He licks hard all the way up the front of her panties and delights in the way she twists and squirms on the counter. She’s gorgeous and wanton leaning back against mirror and he’s never seen anything sexier. Jean hooks his thumbs on either side of her waistband and carefully tugs her panties down. He only gets halfway down though before she pulls one leg up and out of the restricting lace and wraps it around him. Her hands grab his shoulders and he grins as he’s shoved face first between her legs.

Her hands are in his hair but she doesn’t have to hold him down. This is how he wanted to do this earlier and now his mouth waters at being given the chance. He licks the length of her slit, the same as he did through her panties, but this time he kisses over every bit of exposed flesh. His hands slide up her thighs and he traces his thumbs along the outside of her folds as his tongue invades her heat to dip in and taste. Her cry echoes in the small room and makes her taste even more delicious.

Riza’s legs hook over his shoulders and he uses his thumbs to carefully open her up even more. He bathes her with his tongue then burrows even deeper as he thrusts his tongue inside her. She rocks against his face and he knows what she wants and he’s going to give it to her. He slides his hands up her body to palm and squeeze her breasts again as he licks his way up to her tiny center of pleasure. She cries out again and he forgoes the teasing to suck and lick over her clit, matching her writhing rhythm with his tongue and hands until she’s bucking and screaming out his name. It’s that last part that makes him grin even more as he stays between her legs to lap up every last drop of her passion.

“Jean, shit…,” she pants and tugs at his hair. He looks up and licks his lips at the sight of her loose limbed and spread out on the counter. He kisses his way up her body, making sure to stop and suck at each full breast before making his way to her lips. She kisses him back hungrily and wraps her arms and legs around him tightly again. “You do have a sinful tongue, Jean Havoc.” She slides one hand down his side then between them to squeeze his hard and neglected cock. He groans low against her shoulder and trembles at the husky, commanding tone to her voice. “Now take me back to my bed and fuck me.”

Jean moans low again and wraps his arms around her. She’s still holding tight to him so he slides his hands under her ass and picks her up off the counter. He captures her lips in another kiss and slowly, carefully makes his way to the bed. He intends to lay her down gently but as soon as they reach the bed she pulls them both down onto it hard. He whimpers as his cock rubs against her and he struggles to free himself from her embrace so he can get his pants and boxers off. He wants her so fucking much he can barely stand it. He looks around to figure out where she keeps her supplies but before he can ask he’s moaning instead when her hot mouth wraps around his cock.

“Oh fuck, Riza, easy. Shit!” She pulls him down on the bed with her again and he sees her grin around his cock. He moans low and pants to try and keep it together. He won’t lose it now no matter how much he wants to. “I thought…I thought you wanted me too…. Fuck!” She sucks him even harder and he fists his hands in the sheets as his eyes roll back in his head. He hears her sexy laugh and he forces his eyes to focus on her.

“Mmmm you’re right. I should make you work for it.” Riza crawls up the bed, and his body, to lean over to one of her night tables. Her tantalizing breasts sway in his face and he leans up to suck on one. He receives a light slap but it’s worth it, fuck is it worth it. He reaches up to grope her again as she slides her way back down his body and, as he expected she would, makes him pay for his stolen touches.

Jean throws his head back and cries out as she works her mouth over him again and this time squeezes and fondles his balls. He has no doubt she’d never let him live it down if he let go now and he bites the inside of his cheek nearly hard enough to draw blood to keep it together. Finally she decides to have mercy on him and he gasps for breath as she slides the condom over his hard length.

“Come on, Jean,” she purrs as she crawls back up the bed. “Let me see what that cock is good for besides making you squirm.”

Jean growls low and rolls her over until he’s finally on top. The superior grin she gives him has him so _damn_ hard and he doesn’t hesitate. As soon as her legs spread beneath him he thrusts inside her and both their cries mingle together. He has to still for a moment, even as she claws at his shoulders and bucks against him, because her tight heat around him is almost too much. He forces himself to think about inventory at his parents’ store, anything else but the beauty beneath him, just long enough to regain control before slamming into her hard again.

He can’t remember a time he’s ever been so turned on and lost to pleasure. No woman has ever been anything like this and Jean knows he’s ruined forever. Riza’s legs wrap around him as he picks up a hard, fast rhythm and she matches him, bucking up and rubbing against him. He slides a hand between them and runs it over her breasts, squeezing one longingly then sliding his hand downward. She’s too much, too good and he won’t last near long enough. He worms his hand between them and positions his fingers so she can grind up against them.

Her scream alone is nearly enough to drive him over the edge. When she shudders and clenches around him he’s a total goner. He slams into her a few more times and as his own release hits him he thinks he’s going to shake apart. His arms tremble and when he finally does collapse on her he buries his face in her chest, inhaling the sweet, sexy muskiness of their combined passion. He closes his eyes when her hand runs over his hair and once his body begins to cool he kisses over her chest then rolls over to his back. He doesn’t even realize he still has his hand over one of her breasts until she laughs that sexy laugh again.

“You realize you really do have a problem.” He grins at her and waggles his eyebrows as he licks his lips. She smacks him on the shoulder and this time he’s the one laughing as he pulls away and reaches over the side of the bed for his pants. He pulls them closer and fishes out his cigarettes and matches as he shifts to sit up on the bed.

“It’s one hell of a vice and I’m afraid I’ll never kick it,” he says as his eyes linger over her chest. He pulls out a cigarette and starts to light it when she suddenly reaches out and snatches the one in his lips and the pack in his hand. He blinks and tilts his head. She never seemed to have a problem with him smoking before. He watches as she pulls two more from the pack then places the rest in the nightstand drawer on her side of the bed.

“From now on you only smoke the ones you’ve earned.” He looks at her curiously and takes the first one she offers him. “This one, is for this.” She leans forward and kisses along his freshly shaved jaw and he grins. Smoking is about to get a heck of a lot sweeter. “This, is for that sinful tongue of yours.” She hands him another cigarette then leans closer to kiss him deep and slow. He reaches out to pull her even closer but she slips away and holds up the last cigarette. “And this.” A slow grin spreads across her lips as she slides down the bed. Jean gasps when she pulls off the condom then runs her tongue up his length. “Is for….”

Her words drift off as she sucks him into his mouth and he barely manages to take the third cigarette from her. He sets two on the table nearest him and reaches down to run his hand over her hair. He’s sensitive as hell right now but she knows it and knows exactly what to do. He groans low and watches her suck and bathe him with her tongue. He has a pretty good feeling she’s not quite done with him today. He puts the third cigarette with the other two. Looks like he’ll be saving that one for later. Maybe he’ll even work on earning another.


	5. Chapter 5

  
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Jean stretches out across the warm bed, a satisfied smirk on his lips. His body aches in all the right places and he’s loath to even open his eyes. But he can tell it’s morning and he already heard Riza get up a little while ago. He cracks his eyes open and squints against the sunlight streaming through the window. He catches a glimpse of blond hair and he grins as he closes his eyes again. She’s nothing if not predictable. The scent of freshly brewed coffee is in the air which means she’s outside on the tiny balcony sipping her morning brew the same way she has every morning since he’s been here.

He considers slipping out of bed to join her. All he’d need to do is slide on his pants. That’s decent enough for the neighbors, if anyone was actually looking. He could come up behind her and wrap his arms around her then kiss down the bare column of her nec—.

Wait a minute.

He opens his eyes and his daydream falls away. He didn’t see what he thinks he did, did he? Her hair wasn’t twisted up in that particular way only she does, with the tips of sticking straight up like his own. It was down around her shoulders in golden waves and if that’s the case….

Jean pushes himself to a sitting position and looks out the window again. His chest tightens at the beautiful sight before him: Riza, long hair shifting lightly with the breeze and brushing against a decidedly _civilian_ white button down shirt. He leans forward a bit to see she’s also wearing loose fitting cotton pants along with brown, heeled boots. It’s possible she plans on going somewhere, but that somewhere is definitely _not_ the office. That means it must be the weekend. That means he leaves…

_Tomorrow._

“Shit,” He curses softly and reaches over to the nightstand nearest him for one of the cigarettes in his “earned pile.” He grabs for the matchbook next to them, cigarette already between his lips, and frowns when he sees the last match has been used. “Dammit,” he grumbles around the filter and looks around. Didn’t he see her with a lighter before? Yeah, with the candles. He reaches up and brushes his hand over his chest. The marks from the hot wax have already disappeared but the memory still makes him shiver as a faint throb of desire pulses in his groin.

Jean shakes his head. That’s definitely _not_ what he needs to be thinking about right now. He opens the nightstand drawer and frowns when he finds nothing of any use. He slides it closed and rolls across the bed to the other stand with multiple drawers. Isn’t this the one she pulled the handcuffs from? He opens the top drawer and shifts things around as his mind kicks into overdrive.

He knew this was coming. He knew it from the first time they slept together. He just didn’t want to think about it and Riza has more than enough ways to keep him from thinking. He grunts in frustration when all he finds are condoms, lubricant, a tangled pair of earrings and other nonflammable things. They haven’t talked about his leaving at all. They haven’t talked about much of anything since the first night and he’s had a sinking suspicion of why. She was grieving. He was convenient. And come tomorrow he won’t be in her hair any longer.

Jean shoves the top drawer shut and jerks open the lower, deeper one. This is the one that had the cuffs and the drip candles. And, yes, there it is, the lighter as well. He reaches for it, his fingers brushing against something stiff and smooth as he shifts things around in the apparent “entertainment” drawer. He brings the lighter up to the tip of his cigarette and clicks it to life. But before he can lean forward and take the first sweet drag of heated smoke his eyes catch on the something his fingers brushed against before. He blinks and stares. It can’t be what he thinks it is.

He dips his head forward and lights his cigarette, eyes never wavering from the narrow band of leather peeking out from under a length of silk. He tosses the lighter onto the other nightstand with his cigarettes then reaches into the drawer to catch the curved edge between his fingers. He tugs and his eyes widen as he pulls a stiff, black collar from the drawer. Jean shakes his head. It’s probably Hayate’s, something she’s kept as a reminder of the pup she always adored. But as he slides his thumb over the fine leather there’s no question this wasn’t made for a dog. And is that the barest hint of vanilla?

Jean scoots back up on the bed and takes another long, slow drag from his cigarette as he leans back against the headboard. The smoke curls through his lungs but the relaxing rush that normally seeps into his blood with the nicotine is absent. Instead all he feels is tension and he stares hard at the unforgiving band of leather. Is this why she’s closed off from him? Is this why it’s nothing but controlling sex? Is she using him as a substitute to toss away the moment he leaves? He has no right to make demands, but this goes beyond games and fun. This is serious, and it’s almost more than he can take.

He reaches over and crushes out his half smoked cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand. Before he wouldn’t have wanted to waste it, each drag a slow and sweet reward, but right now he needs answers. He needs to understand what’s going on and why he’s here at all. He needs to know who the fuck this belongs to even though he can’t explain why. It looks brand new, barely worn at all, and he doesn’t know why it grates at him so much, but it does. Has someone been waiting in the wings this whole time?

Jean shoves out of bed, hand tightly clenched around the collar, and he snatches up his jeans from the floor with the other. He roughly pulls them on and fastens them quickly. He’s not thinking straight but he doesn’t care. What does it matter anyway? He’ll be gone tomorrow because she sure as heck hasn’t made any move to stop him. His train tickets are still sitting in plain sight on the dresser and she’s never uttered one word about them. Well if he’s leaving, he’s doing it with answers.

He takes the few steps to the door leading to the balcony and pulls it open. The bright early morning sun makes him squint, but he ignores it and focuses his gaze entirely on her. She doesn’t look his way and somehow he’s not surprised. Instead she continues to stare out over the street below, hands wrapped around the still seaming mug of her half drank coffee. Amazing. He doesn’t even rate enough for a, “good morning,” from her. Does she have any respect for him at all?

He clears his throat and a wave of something akin to panic washes through him. What is he doing? What will he even say? He has no claim on her, that’s more than obvious. What is he even doing out here? He should take the chance, go back inside and put the collar back where he found it. There’s no reason she ever has to know—

She turns to face him, even as he takes a step back toward the door. His eyes met hers, wide and guilty, and he reads the confusion on her face. A breath, a heartbeat is all he has until slow recognition spreads across her face. She sees it and he considers hiding the collar behind his back. But it’s too late. The surprise sliding into anger across her face tells him that. He needs to explain, to tell her it’s all a mistake.

“You Bastard!” The sharp crack of her hand hitting his face rings out in the quiet of the early morning. He winces at the sharp pain, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling he gets from the look of betrayal in her eyes. “You had _no_ right!” She jerks the collar from his grasp and shoves him hard in the chest. “Get out. Just _get out!_

Jean takes a step back, ready to do just that when her words slowly sink in. _You had no right._ And why not? His eyes lock on the collar as she turns away and anger wells up inside him. He’s been playing her game from the first moment she kissed him, never having a clue. He’s submitted to her each and every desire willingly, but he had no idea that none of it was even about _him._

“No. Not without answers.” He reaches out to touch her shoulder but she instantly jerks away, turning her back to face him. “Dammit, Riza. Did you ever see _me_ at all?” She makes no acknowledgment of his words and he grit s his teeth. He may not be Mustang but he doesn’t deserve this. “Was it always _him?_ Is _he_ the one that did this for you? Was Mustang the one that wore that?”

Even facing away from him he sees her tense at his name and his shoulders drop. He knew it. He should’ve realized it from the beginning. How could he be so damn stup—.

Bitter laugher, the kind that sounds like broken glass and raw pain fills his ears and he goes completely still. Riza turns, eyes wide and filled with hurt as a mock smile twists her face and contorts her features into a mask of anguish. “Is that what you think?” The grating laughter comes again but this time he swears it’s nearly laced with tears. “Is that what you think’s going on here?”

She looks down at the collar, makes a face he can’t decipher then throws it across the balcony not far from his feet. Her eyes meet his again and the twisted, painful smile is back as her words grow cold and harsh. “I can assure you, Jean. Roy Mustang never submitted to _anyone_ in his life.”

Riza turns away again and a cold chill settles over him. He was wrong. So wrong and now as he looks at her with her arms wrapped around herself in obvious heartbreak pieces that never quite fit fall into place. Elysia’s tears, Riza’s bitterness at saying Miss Gracia’s name, Mustang planning a party for Hughes’ daughter, the fact Riza wasn’t still at his side acting as his body guard when he died and the hint of vanilla mixed with the strong scent of leather form the collar….

Fuck. He did have it all wrong.

General Hughes’ daughter may be a very sweet girl, but the uncontrolled tears running down her blotchy face speak of much more than the loss of a family friend. So did Breda’s relaxed and familiar attitude with Miss Gracia. Over the past week he’d been able to gather Riza still worked with Mustang and his men but not directly, not as his aide the way she always had before. She shrugged it off as a promotion, but there’s no way.

Jean squats down and picks up the collar by his feet. He brings it to his face, inhales deep and he knows. Mustang never wore this. She did. He turns his eyes upward to look at her. Tension’s in every line of her body but it’s not from anger. It’s from pain, and loss and quite possibly betrayal, but not by him. He looks down at the leather in his hands and he knows without a doubt it’s not her, so why, why would she even try it? A litany of images run through his mind of all the glances she and Mustang shared over the years. She had to try. And considering her transfer…it must not have gone well.

He curls his fingers around the stiff collar and shakes his head. She couldn’t have been seeing him as anyone but who he is. Sure it’s obvious she likes to have a good time, but he didn’t miss how the box of condoms was almost full and how the candles looked as if they’d never been lit. Even the cuffs she used on him felt as unused as the collar in his hands. Half the things he saw in that drawer were for private, personal enjoyment. But she let her guard down with him and in doing so helped him find a part of himself he never knew was missing. He doesn’t want to lose this.

Jean stares down at his hands and slowly uncurls them from around the collar. He’s hurt her, badly. He’s broken her trust and invaded her feelings without even realizing it. There’s only one way she could possible forgive him for that. He wets his lips then takes a slow, deep breath. There’s no question he doesn’t fully understand what he’s getting into, but at the same time…. He looks up at her again and without a doubt he wants to try.

Jean takes a deep breath. The leather’s stiff as he pushes it through the buckle and pulls it apart. He brings it up to his throat and has a moment’s hesitation. But then he remembers the way she’s made him feel all week. Not the sex, but the other part, the part that makes him feel right in himself for the first time he can remember. He works the buckle blind, leaving the collar plenty loose as he shifts from his squatted position to his knees. He swallows hard under the weight of the collar and he wants to get her attention, but at the same time he doesn’t feel like he should speak. He shifts slightly on his knees then lowers his eyes toward the ground and clears his throat softly.

She doesn’t react at first. He didn’t expect her to. But she’ll have to turn around at some point and he won’t be caught out of place. He slows his breathing, keeping it even like he did when she was dripping wax over his skin and he hardly notices the hard feel of concrete beneath his knees. He wouldn’t want to stay here all day, but at the same time there’s something freeing about turning over all control. She’s the one who showed him that and no matter what she says he’s not ready to let this go.

Riza’s feet shift in the heeled, brown leather boots she’s wearing. She was planning on going out. That much is obvious. He wonders if she was planning to bring him with her or if she was thinking about slipping out while he slept. At this point he may never know but he chooses to believe they would’ve spent the day together. Maybe they’d have gone for an early lunch then had a walk through the park, or a round at the shooting range. He’d have been good with either, as long as it was with her. The boots shift again, turning to face him and he imagines them walking through Central square in step with his own….

“What…Jean, what are you doing?” There’s an edge of irritation in her voice, but it’s not the main ingredient. It’s surprise, mixed with sadness and maybe a little fear. She probably doesn’t trust him, might think he’s mocking her and that’s the last thing he wants. He needs her to see he’s serious so he keeps his breathing even and his eyes locked on those pointed brown boots, flattened at the tip with a slight scuff on the right toe. He wants her to understand he’s sorry. He needs her to realize this isn’t an act so when her hand touches his shoulder he still doesn’t move.

“Jean, please. Look at me.” He turns his eyes upward slowly, following the trail from the tips of her boots, to the straight hem of her pants and up her legs he knows are long and supple under his hands. He slides his gaze up her shirt one button at a time, along her neck and to her soft lips he’s drowned in so many times already. He forces his eyes to continue their path until he’s finally looking into amber depths holding no anger and no malice. Jean sees confusion and wariness mixed with a little pain, but it’s the something else buried deep inside that stirs him in a way he’s only beginning to understand. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispers softly.

And she couldn’t be more wrong.

“I do.” His words are firm, filled with conviction and a surprising amount of huskiness even to his own ear. A spark deep within her eyes tells him she heard it too and her expression changes slowly from one of concern to something much more substantial. It’s subtle but even over the span of a week he’s learned to read that primal, maddening drive that resides deep inside her. It matches the one deep inside of him and he wills her to see it as he tells her with the same strong voice, “I want this.”

There it is, that flicker of more in her eyes and they darken nearly to the color of rich, sweet chocolate. He wets his lips and the tiny action spurs her into motion. Riza reaches for the back of his head and shoves him forward, face first toward her feet. His eyes lock on the brown boots again and her voice sends chills down his spine, so strong, so in command. “Lick them. Now.”

Any other time in his life he would have balked at the very suggestion he might be told to do something like this. The very idea is absurd. But there’s nothing absurd about the strength in her voice or the way it sends heat straight to his groin. He leans forward, hands on either side of her feet, and the blood rushes in his ears in time with the throbbing pulse of his heart. Jean lowers his head more and his tongue darts out to run along the top of her boot from the toe to where it meets the bottom of her pants.

He tastes leather, the tang of boot polish and the slight grit of dirt. Individually none of them are desirable. But together, combined with being at her mercy fills him with a certainty and a clarity he’s still wrapping his head around. All week long he’s questioned it, tried to figure it out and doubted himself. But not now. Now he gives over to it entirely, lets it wash over him as he shifts to lick the other boot eagerly. It’s erotic, in a strange kind of way, but it’s so much more too. He feels the rough slide of leather under his tongue and he only realizes the low moan he hears is coming from him when he’s jerked back up to his knees by his hair.

Her lips crash against his with a raw hunger he barely comprehends. It’s primal and dominating, but deep and sensual at the same time. Jean feels her fingers thread through his hair, holding him to the kiss as they caress his scalp. It’s still tender from the hair pulling, but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter. He doesn’t reach up for her, doesn’t even want to, not this time. This time he’s completely at her mercy and he feels it all the way down to his soul. His body’s on fire and she’s the only thing that can quench it.

Jean’s fingers curl at his sides as her tongue slides hot and slick through his mouth. Her hand moves to cradle the back of his neck and he adores the delicate contrast of her hand with the ferocity of her kiss. She needs this, just as much as he does and for the first time he truly understands it. He’s not a substitute for someone else. He’s filling a hole inside her the same way she’s doing for him. How could he have been such a fool and not seen it?

Riza pulls back and his breath catches at the deep need reflected in her eyes. It’s almost predatory and it makes his breath quicken and his heart race. He wets his lips as an early morning breeze caresses his overheated skin and her hand runs through his hair again, slowly, possessively. “Let’s go inside.”

Jean nods and tries to move to his feet but her hand on his shoulder has him tilting his head in question. A slow smile spreads across her lips and his cock aches at the look of domination on her face. “Hands and knees. Follow me,” she says as she slides the collar around and hooks her finger through the attached metal loop. His eyes widen and then a slow smile slides across his own lips as he does his best to keep up with her as she leads him inside and to the foot of the bed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind is the thought this should be degrading, that a real man would never let a woman do this to him, not willingly. But they’re only words. They have no meaning to him anymore. He doesn’t care what the outside world might think because they couldn’t possibly understand how right this is. He sits on his heels and watches as she turns around and slowly reaches up to undo the top button of her blouse.

His mouth waters at the sight of her full bosom peeking in the open V-line of her shirt. She slowly undoes another button and he sees it’s white satin this time instead of black lace. Either way she’s gorgeous and he’s dying for a taste. He won’t make a move though, and it’ll be all the better for it as she undoes another button, then another, until her shirt’s hanging open. Jean licks his lips as the smooth expanse of her stomach is revealed then drags his eyes back up to her luscious, silk covered breasts. At of edge of his vision he can tell she’s pushing down her pants and panties but he can’t make himself tear his eyes away from her beautiful chest.

“Come here, Jean.” He grins hungrily and crawls forward as she sits down on the edge of the bed. Her legs are spread as far as the pants around her ankles will allow and he doesn’t have to ask to understand her unspoken request. Riza leans forward when he reaches her and cups his face with her hands as she captures his lips again. Jean leans into her touch and moans softly as her tongue slides into his mouth. It’s not as frantic as before, but no less sensual, and Jean shudders as her hands run down his neck, trail along his arms to his hands before pulling them up to rest on her bare thighs. She breaks the kiss then turns her head to purr low against his ear. “Remind me just how good that tongue of yours can be.”

Jean squeezes her thighs lightly then tilts his head to kiss his way down her neck before she pulls back. He glides his tongue lower to the valley between her breasts and nuzzles his face against each of them in turn, swirling his tongue over her nipples and sucking lightly before reluctantly kissing his way down her stomach. There’s no doubt he could bury his face in her cleavage all day but that’s not what she wants.

And he wants to give her exactly what she wants.

He slides his hands up her legs, parting her thighs a bit more as he dips his head and licks the length of her warm, wet heat. The gasp she makes is beyond beautiful. It’s the most perfect thing he’s ever heard. His hands run all the way up now, thumbs carefully opening her up to his questing tongue and he’s a little surprised when he doesn’t feel her fingers in his hair pressing his face deeper. She must know she’s already enslaved him with unseen bonds. He licks his way up and down her slit, swirling his tongue over her clit until she shivers. Fuck, he loves making her do that. But it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

Jean presses the flat of his tongue hard against her tiny nub and rubs until she’s squirming beneath him, her gasps of pleasure turning him on as much as if her mouth were wrapped around his cock. He adores making her writhe and cry out because of how tightly she usually hangs on to control. Making her let go, even a little bit, is beyond erotic and makes him feel like even more of a fool for his accusations. He rubs hard against her clit again then drags his tongue down, mapping and tasting her warm folds before thrusting his tongue into her core.

Riza cries out again and this time her fingers do tunnel through his hair, but she’s still not holding him down. She knows he’s not going anywhere. He won’t. Not until she’s trembling with satisfaction. He leans in more and fucks her with his tongue, her soft cries urging him to try to get even deeper as he learns her inside and out. His thumbs slide upward, brushing along her sensitive skin, and with his right he finds her clit again and strokes it in time with his thrusting and curling tongue.

“Jeeeeeeeeean.”

How could he think she was thinking of anyone else? He thrusts his tongue deeper once more then replaces it with two of his fingers, fucking her on his hand. He dips his head again and draws his tongue, hard, over her velvety skin until he reaches her clit. She bucks against him and he moves his other hand to her hip to hold her still as he focuses all his attention on her hard nub with his lips and tongue. Licking, sucking, circling, rubbing in every way he’s found she loves until her body arches back sharply and shakes uncontrollably underneath him with release. He turns his eyes upward to look at her, shirt fallen open completely, head thrown back with her hair cascading over her shoulders and her beautiful, heaving bosom….

He feels her eyes on him a moment later and then her fingers sliding under the collar and tugging him up. He crawls up her body, leaning in to kiss her lips but she stops him with a hand on his chest. His breath is already coming quicker as he takes in the sight of her eyes, dark and dilated with pleasure, the flush in her cheeks, and the tangled mess of her golden hair framing her face. He wants to capture her lips with his own, to run his hand over her gorgeous, silk-covered breasts but he forces himself to still as a sultry smile spreads across her face.

“Take off my boots.”

Her words are husky and commanding, but the look in her eyes promises so much more than mundane orders and it makes his cock twitch with desire. He pulls back, sliding down her body deliberately until he slips off the bed and onto his knees again. He catches the musky scent of her desire and it sends another pulse of want thudding through him, ending between his legs and deep in his gut. He wants her so much, and as he unzips and eases off her leather boots he gets even harder at getting to undress her this way. He pulls her slacks and panties off as well and then his mouth goes dry as he looks up to find her pinning him with her intense amber gaze.

Riza leans down, hooking her finger in the metal loop of the collar again and leads him to climb up on the bed. She scoots to the side this time and urges him all the way up and he willingly follows her lead. He rolls onto his back, eyes heavy lidded as she moves against his side and his breath catches when she reaches down to touch him. Her soft hand circles around his cock and he bucks into her touch without thought as she strokes him slow. He’s already so damn, achingly hard and her slow strokes make his breath quicken and heart race.

“You want me.” There’s no question in her smooth, sexy voice and somehow that fact alone makes the statement even hotter.

“Yeah,” he breathes, answering her anyway, and her hand tightens around him. She brushes her thumb over his tip and he jerks up into her touch, seeking so much more. Riza grins and pulls back, turning for the nightstand and it’s all he can do to keep from reaching out for her. He hears the crinkle of a condom being torn open and his eyes widen when instead of reaching down she crawls down the bed and takes him into her mouth. Her eyes never leave his as she bobs over him and his gut twists with desire as she lifts up and slowly rolls the condom over him. Fuck, if she isn’t the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. “Riza….”

“Yes, Jean,” she purrs and purposefully crawls up his body. His fingers itch to touch her but the collar around his neck weighs heavy on him, reminding him this is her game and he’ll play by the rules. He _wants_ to play by the rules more than he wants to break them. She slides up until she’s straddling his stomach and he shivers at the feel of wet heat against his skin. His breath hitches as she grabs both his hands in hers and moves them up over his head. Her shirt is hanging down to either side of his face, giving him a glorious view of her perfect breasts as she leans over him. It’s like his own private peep show and he enjoys every second as her weight shifts forward onto his hands and then back onto his hard cock.

He throws his head back as hot, wet heat surrounds him and he bucks his hips up for more, unable to help himself. She responds by grinding down on him more and he pants when she sits up. Unexpectedly she drags his hands with her and a broad smile curls across his lips as she brings them to rest over her white, silk-covered breasts.

Fuck. _Yes._

Her grin matches his own and they begin a perfect rhythm together, her riding his cock with her strong thighs and him rocking up into her and fondling her full breasts with his hands. He brushes his thumbs over her hardened nipples and she flips her hair back as she arches into his hands. So hot. So _fucking_ perfect. His fingers trace along the edges of the silk bra, slowly pulling it back until he can cup and roll her bare nipples between his fingers. Riza’s muscles clamp down tighter around him at his touch and the low, hungry moan that escapes his lips surprises even him. Good. _So_ good. On top of everything else it’s almost more than he can take.

Her actions speed up, as do his own and he can feel the tightening in his gut as one of her hands slides down between her legs. He squeezes her breasts, fondling them and pinching her nipples as she grinds down on him harder. He’s thrusting up with quick, hard movements and she meets every one, her muscles tightening and sliding over him with the most perfect friction. Jean licks his lips when her hand moves faster and he sees it coming right before she screams out and spasms hard around him. She jerks into his hands and the sight has him thrusting up hard, fast. Once, twice, three times and he’s there with her, crying out hoarsely and moaning deep as she pushes his hands away and collapses down on his chest.

A hazy, bliss falls over him and he slowly slides his arms around her. Her cheek brushes against his shoulder, soft lips caress his neck and he runs his hand over her hair, damp with sweat. She feels so, _damn_ good in his arms and he tightens his hold on her briefly before relaxing back on the bed. He runs a hand over her lower back and he’s in no rush for her to move. Her lips slide along his jaw and he tilts his head back when he feels her tongue sliding along his skin under the collar.

“Damn that feels good.” Riza laughs, low and sexy against his neck, and his breath catches when he feels a tug on the collar. The way her lips brush his skin she must have it in her teeth and he runs his fingers through her hair, holding her close. “Leave it on if you want.”

She goes still in his arms then pulls back slowly. He tries to keep her close but she’s determined to sit up and he lets her, looking up in question. Did he say something wrong? She reaches to his neck and before he realizes what she’s doing she has the collar unbuckled and is pulling it away.

“Riza, you didn’t have t—.”

“Yes, Jean. I did.” Her eyes lock with his and he’s floored at the intensity in them. What did he do? She tosses the collar on the nightstand to her right then cups his cheek with her hand. “It’s fun to play, but that’s what it needs to be. For us both.”

Riza glides her thumb across his cheekbone and he hears the deeper meaning in her words. She knows. She understands the need he has to feel controlled…and she doesn’t want to push it too far. He stares up at her another moment and he certain without a doubt she could. She could and he would be her willing slave.

Jean tightens his arms around her and rolls her off him so they’re both on their sides. He slides his hand behind her neck and pulls her into a hard, deep kiss. She understands him, and now he feels like he understands her. What will he ever do without this? How can he possibly give her up? He kisses her till he’s breathless and only then pulls back, his eyes lowered before he rolls away from her to take care of the condom. He tosses it in the trash bin by the bed and he can’t look at her, not yet, so he reaches out for a cigarette from his pile on the nightstand.

He clicks the lighter and he closes his eyes as he inhales because her hand runs over his shoulder. Fuck is he going to miss that. Her arm slides under his and over his chest and he sighs as he exhales a long stream of smoke. Her full breasts press against his back and soft lips kiss feather light against his neck.

“Stay….”

Jean blinks. Did he hear what he thought he heard? He tries to turn around to face her but her arm tightens around him and prevents it. He relaxes back in her embrace as he takes another drag from his cigarette. “What was that?”

“Stay here, with me.”

It’s not a command. He hears it in her tone of voice. She has to realize if she did demand he stay he’d agree with no question. But she doesn’t order him. It’s a soft request and it leaves it all up to him. He reaches out to snuff out his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand, something she brought home after the first night he was here. She didn’t have to do that. He could’ve used anything. Was she wanting him to stay even then? He reaches up and covers her hand with his and gives it a squeeze. Then he pulls it away just enough so he can turn to look into her eyes.

They’re different now, different than he’s ever seen them. There’s a softness in her amber gaze and a hint of something deeper, something that’s not in complete control. She’s letting him see something few probably ever have. He turns more toward her and keeps holding her hand. He brings it to his chest, over his heart, and squeezes it again as he replies softly.

“I’d love to.”

The smile that spreads across her face is absolutely breathtaking because she doesn’t only smile with her lips. It’s in her eyes, sparking and shining with emotion. It’s in the way her fingers curl on his chest and how she scoots toward him as if she can’t get close enough. He doesn’t know where this is going. He has no idea how long she’ll want him to stay. But he can.

He will.

There’s something here too new to explain but too precious to let go. Riza’s touched something in him and he’s realizing that maybe he’s done the same with her. All this time he’s been focused on himself and the differences in Central and how much he didn’t fit anymore. But now maybe he needs to look forward, instead of back.

He could look forward with her. He _wants_ to look forward with her.

Riza curls closer, resting her head on his shoulder. She laces their fingers together over his heart and he wraps his other arm around her. He’ll stay. He’ll see where this goes. Maybe he could have a future here. Riza leans up and presses her lips softly against his and as he returns the gentle kiss he knows without a doubt Central could become home again.

  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/elysianfields/15078618/9852/9852_600.jpg)   
  


  


  
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